


New Perspectives

by Spotsy



Category: Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Gift Fic, Illya Kuryakin - Freeform, M/M, Man From Uncle, Napoleon Solo - Freeform, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-03
Updated: 2012-10-03
Packaged: 2017-11-15 12:51:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/527512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spotsy/pseuds/Spotsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Napoleon discovers that things look different from this angle...</p>
            </blockquote>





	New Perspectives

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sparky955](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=sparky955).



I was seeing Illya from a whole new perspective-- wearing a pink dress and high heels… no wonder I was confused. 

It was all Illya’s idea, this dressing up like women in order to evade the evil clutches of THRUSH.

“It’s the only way, Napoleon,” he’d argued. “THRUSH is looking for two males, not two females. If we do it this way, we just might stand a chance of getting out of here in one piece.” 

“Oh, good,” I said drily. “I was afraid you were going to suggest a two piece.”

Illya pursed his lips and shoved a ruffled, flowered dress at me. Where he got the dress, I didn’t know… nor was I entirely certain that I wanted to. Sometimes, with Illya, it was best not to know. “Put it on,” he ordered.

With a wry face, I did so, then sat resignedly in a chair while Illya plastered—and I do mean plastered—make-up on my face. 

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” I asked him, suspiciously. 

“Of course I know what I’m doing,” Illya said irritably. “Now, hush up and let me work.”

Since I didn’t care to argue, I hushed up and gave myself over to his expertise with only a slight wince.

He worked on me for solid hour before he stepped back and viewed his handiwork with a critical eye. From the look on his face, I guessed that I didn’t quite measure up to his standards of either male or female beauty.

“How do I look?” I asked.

“You make a very ugly female, Napoleon,” Illya informed me with a regretful shake of his blond head.

“Hm, well, I’d hate to overshadow the fair sex,” I returned with a grin.

Illya snorted. “That you certainly do not, I assure you.” Then he turned and went to work on transforming himself into a woman.

I reiterate-- no wonder I was confused.

It wasn’t the first time I’d begun to see Illya in another light. For the past several months now, Illya had been making a decidedly different impression on me than I’d had of him in the beginning. It felt like that Frank Sinatra song… I’d got him under my skin. And worse still, the sensation was far from being an unpleasant one. 

Now, as we teetered down the station platform in those drat high heels that Illya insisted on us wearing, I glanced sideways at Illya. As usual he looked as calm as a summer sea. I felt a stab of envy as I struggled to keep my balance on the three-and-a-quarter inch heels. 

Just then, I stumbled on a rock. For a moment, I wobbled about precariously as my ankles decided whether or not they were going to topple and land me flat on my flowered ass on the platform. Illya’s steadying grasp on my elbow decided for them and I righted myself with all the dignity I could muster, which wasn’t much under the circumstances. With a muttered curse, I staggered on-- men weren’t made to walk on contraptions like this.

With outward calm but inward trepidation, I scanned the crowd for signs of THRUSH. Out of the corners of my eyes, I could see dozens of potential Thrushies milling about. Thankfully, none of them appeared to pick us out from the crowd-- their eyes passed over us as casually as they did over everyone else. The passengers were called and we boarded the train along with the others without a hitch. I kept myself on the alert, ready for trouble. But trouble, surprisingly enough, never came.

It wasn't long before the train was moving and we were safely tucked away in the confines of our compartment. Stretching myself out on the bed, I let out a sigh of relief. “You’re brilliant, tovarish. You know that?” 

Illya looked smug as he came out of the washroom, freshly scrubbed and make-up free. “What would you do without me?”

I grinned. What indeed?

“It’s late. I’m going to wash up and then try to catch some sleep,” I said, throwing a towel over my shoulder and heading off to the washroom.

Illya nodded, then threw something in my direction. “Use this to help you take off the false lashes.” 

I caught it automatically. “Thanks, tovar—“I began, then stared. In my hand was a tube of lubricant. My head shot up to look at Illya. He was casually tugging on a pair of pajama pants, apparently unaware of there being anything out of the ordinary.

Somewhat dazed, I shuffled quickly to the washroom and shut the door behind me, still staring at the tube in my hand. Well, this was unexpected. It wasn’t a surprise to me that Illya might be batting for the other side, but it did surprise me that he had a tube of lubricant handy. I frowned. Did he always carry one with him during our missions? And if he did, just when did he ever find the chance to use it? And with whom? 

It was a disconcerting thought and one that I didn’t find at all pleasant. I’d resigned myself to never having him, but I had thought then that I didn’t need to worry about his ever being someone else’s. He never really seemed interested in anyone else. Now, my heart was beginning to sink with the realization that he could be… could be…

How could I be so stupid?

I scrambled quickly out of the hideous dress I was wearing and began scrubbing my face within an inch of its life. Then, using the lubricant, as Illya suggested, I peeled off the false lashes, scowling at my reflection all the while. 

Of course he had someone else. And why shouldn’t he? He was human, after all, and it wasn’t like I kept myself away from sexual partners. Bitterly cursing my idiocy under my breath, I gathered myself together and stepped out of the washroom. 

Illya was lying sprawled out on the bed, his eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling as it wobbled and creaked with the motion of the train.

“Here,” I said, tossing him the lubricant. “And thanks. It worked perfectly.”

“It always does.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Oh… always?” I couldn’t help the nasty tone that had crept into my voice. The idea of Illya being with any other man sent the green snake of envy coiling around my heart. 

He didn’t answer, busily scrambling to make room for me on the bed. “I’m afraid we are going to have to share the bed, Napoleon.”

“It’s not the first time,” I reminded him, irritably.

Illya looked up. “Is there something wrong, Napoleon?” he asked.

“Nothing’s wrong. Now move over,” I said roughly.

Illya obliged, but maintained his gaze on my face, looking at me expectantly. 

“What?” I asked, though I knew damn well what.

“I am waiting.”

“For what?”

“For you to tell me what is wrong.”

“I told you, there’s nothing wrong.”

“You are not telling me the truth.”

Damn, he knew me too well. I sighed and girded up my loins for the fray. Might as well get it over with. Illya wasn’t the type to let things go-- he was stubborn that way. “It’s just… well, that lubricant—“

“Ah,” Illya interrupted, a knowing look on his face.

“It’s not that,” I said quickly.

Illya narrowed his eyes. “No?”

“No. That isn’t the problem.”

“No?”

I shook my head. “No. It’s just that… well, it bothers me… who you might be using it with.” 

Illya looked less than enlightened. “What are you saying exactly?” 

I felt exasperated. Was he going to make me spell it out for him? “I’m saying that I… that I…” I swallowed and gritted my teeth. “I don’t want to share you with another man.” There, I'd said it. No way to back out now.

Illya’s face was unreadable as he took in my face with his gaze. “Oh,” was all he said.

My heart sank. “Oh? Is that all you have to say?”

“It’s just a surprise. You always seemed so… so…” Illya groped for the right word.

“Heterosexual?”

Illya smiled. “Something like that.”

“Well, that was the general idea,” I said drily.

“I've never used it, you know,” Illya said suddenly. 

That surprised me. “Really?” then I got curious. “Why?”

“Because of you.” he said simply.

Now it all made sense-- why he rarely showed any interest in anyone else, why, the few times he did appear interested, the affair would fizzle out and come to nothing, or why I’d never seen him with another man. I couldn't speak.

Thankfully, Illya spared me the necessity of saying anything.

In a breath, Illya’s mouth was on mine, tenderly at first and then gradually intensifying, enveloping me in a sweet madness. My lips opened to the unrelenting demands of his tongue.

When Illya deserted my mouth and began to feast on my throat, I moaned, my hands reaching up to grasp his bare shoulders. I felt him trembling underneath them as he strained his body against mine.

“Napoleon,” he breathed, then retook possession of my mouth.

Through the haze, I could feel his hands beginning to fumble with my clothing and I arched under him with a moan more eloquent than words. 

One by one, Illya disposed of my clothing, throwing them into a heap on the floor until the last one was discarded. He then began lick his way downwards, deliberately lingering first on one nipple, then another, twirling his tongue hotly against my flesh, sending darts of fire through my veins. 

Down he traveled, farther and farther, until he reached my throbbing erection. Tentatively, he licked the tip, then he slowly drew his tongue along the shaft, causing me to shudder uncontrollably. Then, when I was about ready to start sobbing in sheer desperation, he opened his mouth… and devoured me. 

I stiffened as an electric jolt shot through my body. When Illya began to apply gentle suction, I cried out, grasping the sheets with my hands, my knuckles turning white as I tried desperately to keep myself from thrusting wildly into Illya’s mouth. “Illya!” I ground out from behind clenched teeth.

He took me in deeper, his mouth working my cock. My mind blurred. The only thing I could think or articulate was his name. I shouted it over and over in the still cabin, overwhelming need taking possession of my soul, mind, and body. Then with one last shout, I came, pulsing into Illya’s mouth, exquisite relief filling me from head to toe. For a long time, my soul had been parched. I had now been utterly quenched.

Illya waited until I had finished, then pulled away, licking me clean as he went. I lay still as he moved over me, reveling in the feel of his touch… of knowing it was Illya touching me.

When it was over, I looked up and saw Illya looking at me, an irresistible smile on his face. 

I pulled him down beside me. “You know,” I said, softly. “It’s a long train ride.” 

“True,” Illya said, his eyes beginning to sparkle. “What did you have in mind?”

I rolled on top of him and delighted in the way Illya hardened under me in response. “Just a little something to keep us occupied.” I grinned.

And then I saw Illya from another perspective.


End file.
